She Let Him
by Paceismyhero
Summary: "Everything gets insanely more intricate when you start taking the time to look a little more closely at the big picture. When you learn the details and commit pieces of it to memory, shit gets serious. Complicated. Real." Multichapter followup in the "To Be With You" universe. Rated M for language and (eventual) sex. Please read and review!
1. Prelude

**Author's Note:** I just want to use this space to say thank you to everyone who is as invested in this universe as I clearly am. I finally got enough of these done that I feel OK about starting to post; they will be a bunch of small chapters (I don't dare say drabble since I haven't written them all and know they aren't all small to begin with) from different POVs that will (hopefully?) be the end of what has been a much longer journey than I ever anticipated when writing the first part. Still, I hope you all enjoy it.

For those that might be catching this one brand new, this is actually the final piece of the puzzle (or the last chapter will be, anyway). The order of the universe is as follows: _If She'd Let Me, To Be With You, Deal or No Deal_ and then this one. I suggest reading (and reviewing! ha) all the others before getting into this one, but you could skip "If She'd Let Me" and still understand everything. Not so much if you skipped the others (though that isn't to say I don't think you couldn't necessarily enjoy it without having read them).

Regardless, again, thank you all and I look forward to your feedback (hint hint). :)

* * *

In the grand scheme of things, a year wasn't that long. So far, it was only a twentieth of his life. On average, it would be about 1/80th. It was a mere 365 days. Just 525,600 minutes (he hadn't done the math; he'd just been living with Kurt and Rachel too long to have _not_ been forced to listen to that damn song). But, in Puck's love life, a year was a fucking eternity. He'd never been with a girl (exclusively) for longer than a week. And it probably shouldn't surprise him to realize that week had been with Rachel, but while lying in bed reflecting on the last year, it seemed even more significant.

Today marked the day the _Puckleberry reunion_ passed that coveted threshold. He was currently waiting for Rachel to finish getting ready to leave, something he still thought was stupid considering the dirty atmosphere of their destination. The tattoo parlor didn't use old needles or anything, but those places in general were never nice. It was partially why he'd insisted from the beginning that he go with her, though that purpose had changed significantly over the last month. Then again, that statement was true for just about everything; so much had changed in a year that it really did seem crazy to think just how little of an amount of time it was.

Legit, he loved her (and had for probably 2 million-plus minutes), but he was shocked they'd made it the full year. After all, he was still Puck and she was most definitely still Rachel. No amount of time or even togetherness was ever going to change that very basic fact. They were two different people with two _very _different personalities (his normal, hers split between nuts and bat-shit crazy). And even though they'd managed to make it work, there were still times when it was a guessing game on whether they'd tear each other's clothes off or just tear each other apart limb from limb.

The first month was easy. There was a lot to figure out and lot of new adjustments, but the big picture was simple. Everything was fueled by excitement and newness and sex. Fuck. A lot, lot, _lot_ of sex. And it wasn't like that part entirely went away (again, still Puck), but everything gets insanely more intricate when you start taking the time to look a little more closely at the big picture. When you learn the details and commit pieces of it to memory, shit gets serious. Complicated.

Real.


	2. Month 2

**Author's Note:** Giving you this chapter right away instead of just (what I'll call) the prelude so you get an idea of what I'm trying to achieve with this little ditty. It's obviously going to go month by month, but I promise to update much quicker than that. :)

Again, please read and review!

* * *

_Month 2_

It was a terrible idea from the very beginning. Even she could admit that, though she'd always put the blame on him if it ever came to such a thing. After all, he was the one who'd complained about the cost of clothes in New York and he'd also been the one to come to the city with a duffel bag full of less than a week's worth of attire. So the fact that she had been the one to suggest they take at least a weekend at the beginning of the summer break to travel to Lima and pick up more of his things was completely irrelevant. Especially since he'd agreed. _Especially _since he'd agreed, let her fathers buy both of them plane tickets _and _had driven them from the airport to Lima.

It was all his fault.

OK. Yes. She had been the one to suggest they surprise Mr. Schuester and the glee club. They weren't going to be in town long, and Noah missed his brother whether he'd say it out loud or not. It was the perfect opportunity for them to be efficient with their time, not to mention the fact that it was a great way to legitimately avoid each of their parents. Moreover, she'd been so excited to spend more than a couple minutes with Tina and Artie and the rest of the old gang that she'd shamefully missed in all her other trips to Ohio that she'd _honestly_ forgot to consider the one person in the group who might not welcome their homecoming.

She didn't mean Kitty, either, though that had been unexpected and probably the first indication that the trip wasn't going to go as planned. It was never a good sign when introductions started with someone storming out in a rage, certainly not what appeared to be a vindictive blonde in a Cheerio's uniform. It also wasn't good when Rachel's questioning gaze was met with Noah's pathetic shrug and _way_ too many memories of other times she'd feared playing second fiddle to a cheerleader.

They were just supposed to be visiting McKinley, not _revisiting _high school.

"Let's do a duet," Finn had suggested in a voice that seemed innocent and uplifting, but his eyes had told her otherwise. "We're gearing up for Nationals, and what better way to pass the torch than have the two former winning leads sing to the _future_ winning team?"

Again, Rachel _knew_ it was a terrible idea from the very beginning. Finn wasn't the smartest person in the world, but he was intelligent enough to know exactly what he was doing - and so was she, and so was Noah. But when the choir room erupted in cheers and Mr. Schuester clapped his hands together in that enthusiastic way he'd always used to, Rachel couldn't deny any of them. She'd managed to get away with having them sing a song that wasn't entirely romantic, but the performance still resulted in a lot of eye contact and unplanned choreography that was so familiar and yet completely uncomfortable. None of which made it any easier when everything was over and Noah decided to go out with Jake and Rachel was left to get a ride home with Finn.

It had, however, given them a chance to have a long conversation that was way past due, and not in the _making up for lost time_ way that Noah had alluded to bitterly before he'd left McKinley. She was still somewhat offended about Finn's reaction over the phone to the confirmation that she was dating Noah, and his behavior in glee hadn't made any amends. She'd used the jealousy ploy far too many times in her life to have it ruin another one of her relationships (though this time in the opposite way), and was in the middle of berating him for his immaturity when he'd apologized to her in one breath and admitted he wasn't in love with her anymore in the next. Apparently Finn had met someone at his college and it had taken that budding relationship (still in the very early stages) for him to realize that Rachel had been right; he was holding onto the past too tightly and he needed to figure out what he really wanted and not just pursue things he thought he should want.

Rachel was happy for Finn and she was glad they could still be friends after everything, but that didn't stop her from having dinner alone with her fathers nor did it make her phone ring in any of the hours that had dragged on afterward (no matter how much she'd willed it). With little to no sleep, she'd managed a pleasant yoga class with Blaine followed by a short trip to The Lima Bean before absently walking to the Puckerman house instead of her own. Getting access to his room had been like the final chapter of _The Inferno_, layers of people she had to speak to beforehand growing harder and harder as she grew nearer. Jake, who had answered the door on his way out after apparently passing out following an epic night of videogame playing, had been surprisingly easy. Rachel hadn't spent much time with the young man, but he seemed sweet and good and … all the things Noah tried to hide from people when he had been in high school (and still to the day). After Jake, Noah's little sister, Sarah, pulled her into a conversation and then she was ambushed by Mrs. Puckerman before finally being granted permission to go upstairs.

She found him lying face up on his bed, staring at the door as if he'd expected her to show up. She'd spoken to him like a timid fifteen-year-old girl who was terrified to lose the only person who cared about her, and he'd responded in kind, acting like the sixteen-year-old jerk who pretended no one and nothing mattered to him. The exchange had been exactly what she would have expected given the origin of the problem, and since their insecurities were manifested in their former selves and not the people they'd become, Rachel could only fabricate an exit strategy that seemed like the least pathetic of all her options.

"It appears you've had a long night, so I'll leave so you can get some rest."

"I slept for shit," he agreed, gruffly adding, "S'weird without you."

Her heart had broken and mended in almost the same instant as she turned and faced him, seeing his regret all over his features. Slowly she crawled into his childhood bed next to him, the two exchanging soft words of apology and truthfulness (Finn was still a hot button, obviously, as was Noah's detachment) until they fell into a deep slumber that they were clearly only capable of now when sharing a bed. After that, the trip had turned into about what they'd expected, ending with Rachel revealing an ankle bracelet she'd made with Sarah that was complete with beads that spelled Noah's name.

It wasn't a tattoo, but it had only been two months. So it was a start.


	3. Month 3

**Author's Note:** It almost feels wrong to do this given the news, but I made a promise. So, here we go.

* * *

_Month 3_

New York was awesome. But, sometimes, it sucked. Like when it was so hot his balls were sticking to his legs and he'd been walking for what felt like years because that seemed better than sitting in a sweaty cab going nowhere, talking to some foreigner about the weather (just reminding each of them that they were sweating to death). What sucked worse, though, was that he'd made the trek all the way to the campus only to find out his professor had to cancel class; asshole better be dead or dying because Puck had actually done the homework on time and that shit still didn't come easy to him, especially not when he was still bitter about losing his whole summer by enrolling in the damn program late and needing to catch up for the time lost.

Exhausted, Puck shoved his way through the front door of the apartment building, opting for the elevator because 1) he didn't want to pass out on the stairs and 2) he didn't have Berry clambering in his ear about the health benefits of climbing the five flights. He was super glad he'd gotten her to calm down enough that she didn't spring out of bed to do yoga or whatever the hell, but he still wasn't sure when that girl _wasn't_ working out. NYADA was out on summer break, but Rachel still had rehearsals for the musical plus her extra-curricular dance classes to "_keep in shape_". Her body was off the hook, but sometimes he got tired just listening about it - usually while eating a hotdog or something equally forbidden in Rachel's nutritional regime (_not_ a diet. Christ, if you make that mistake …).

"Hey, babe," he announced as soon as he opened the door. Kurt and Santana had left for a road trip back to Lima a couple of days ago and weren't expected back for another week or so. "Ya home? I'm fuckin' starved."

It was way too early to think about going out, but he'd expected to pick up dinner after his class was done. The last thing he wanted to do was go out in the heat again in search of food, but he also didn't want to melt in the apartment if he actually convinced Rachel to cook something carnivore-friendly. Rummaging inside the fridge, he found some leftover Chinese food and swallowed some whole before even closing the door. It was so good he actually moaned, grabbing a fork from the drawer and stabbing another bite before meandering toward their room.

"Babe?" He asked again, his mouth half full.

"Noah?" Rachel questioned, her voice tense. "I'm in the restroom."

"Thanks, Magellan." Puck rolled his eyes, resting his back against the metal rods of the headboard. The apartment was huge by New York standards, but there were only a few areas available to be completely out of sight.

"Perhaps you'll be able to help me!" Her voice picked up significantly, though still muffled by the closed bathroom door and the thin veil of their curtained room. "I've been trying to choose the perfect outfit, and I still can't decide!"

Puck groaned, his head falling back against the hard exposed brick. There was some big, snooty party next week for the musical and Rachel had all but demanded he go with her. He was always down for an event that had the possibility of an open bar, but she was already bitching to him about being on his best behavior in front of her peers like he was a Goddamn three-year-old. He'd be cool for her or whatever, but he wasn't going to be stuck talking to any of those losers for longer than a couple of minutes, especially not in a fucking tie. Puck still wished he would have "accidentally" forgotten his nice stuff back in Lima; then again, she'd probably known about the party last month and that was why she'd made such a big deal about him packing it.

"Do you like this one?"

The second he moved his gaze from the ceiling to where he'd heard her suddenly shy voice, he choked. Like, literally. Sweet and sour pork and fried rice lodged in his throat, and he still legit thought about waiting to save his own life just to get a few more uninterrupted seconds of raking his eyes over her body. Even while coughing and gasping in air as he moved the container of food to the bedside table, Puck couldn't help but let every other thought not dedicated to his life flashing before his eyes to go back to Rachel and how good she looked.

Fuck Chinese food. He was going to fill up on _her_.

"Shit, baby." Puck scooted across the mattress once he was sure he wasn't going to die, his feet resting on the ground the same time his hands grabbed for her hips. His eyes again roamed over her frame, taking in the barely-there lingerie one more time - as if it wasn't engraved in his mind. "This for that party?"

"Don't be silly, Noah." Rachel giggled lightly, then blinked. "I mean, I suppose I could wear something similar underneath whatever outfit I choose for the event. This is quite form-fitting and it supports well and …" She trailed off, blushing a little. "This is for you." Her hands lifted to his shoulders, massaging them lightly as she spoke. "I know you're exhausted between school and work, and I wanted to express just how proud I am and how admirable your dedication is, not to mention your work ethic and maturity since I know this isn't exactly how you probably envisioned spending your summer." She shrugged emptily, as if she knew he'd only heard every third or so word. "I wanted to surprise you."

"If I'dda known, I wouldn't have gone to class."

"Hence the surprise," she answered with a teasing lilt, allowing him to force her into his lap. "I have other outfits to show you."

"This ain't an outfit." He toyed with the lace on the hem as his hands moved from her sides to her ass, massaging/caressing/groping. "It's barely a shoelace."

"It's the most reasonable of the choices," she pointed out, her smile falling from her face when he only growled in reply and pulled her roughly against him.

The weird thing was, lingerie had never been a big selling point for Puck. It's nice and whatever, but usually it's just a pain in the ass to take off and that blows because naked is _definitely_ better than clothed. Plus it costs a ton ass of money, so chicks are always such bitches about ripping it from their bodies - which is stupid since that's exactly what they want to have done when they wear it. Besides, Rachel didn't need any tricks to be the sexiest woman he'd ever been with/seen.

And yet there was something about that moment that felt like it was guaranteed to be the beginning of the hottest night of his life, and it had nothing to do with the weather. It was Rachel and how she'd planned the whole thing. _For him_. She was prepared to give him a dirty fashion show. They were alone in the apartment. They both were free tomorrow. It was perfect down to the last detail, and he'd been stupid enough only to think about going to dinner and maybe catching a late game on ESPN with her snuggled at his side pretending to understand/care. She was definitely the brains of the operation, and he was going to prove just how grateful he was about that fact.

"I'mma fuck you so hard." She gasped at his words, creating an even deeper need in him. For all her monologues and diatribes and just _words_, they hadn't really delved into the world of dirty talk yet outside of an occasionally breathy plea or desperate whimper. That meant he wasn't quite sure where the line was (read: no safe word), but that was going to change. Now. "You want that, baby? Tell me you want it."

Rachel shivered, hiccuping a little when he rocked their hips together. She fisted the fabric of his shirt, her head falling forward a bit when he didn't let up. Every inch of exposed skin was explored with wanton touches, her mouth opening and closing several times before she finally whined, "So badly, Noah."

"Say it. Say you want me to fuck you so hard that it'll hurt to walk."

If his words seemed harsh, then his hands were downright aggressive, pulling and pushing at the enticing piece of clothing in an effort to get her naked as fast as possible. He wasn't exactly swimming in cash these days, but when he tore the back of the lingerie down the middle and peeled it from her frame, he knew it would be worth any amount of money he'd owe her. The way she'd cried out in pleasure and mewled her affirmation was damn near priceless.

"You like it rough, don't ya, baby? It get you wet?" She whimpered as he stood, gripping her body to his tightly before flopping her down to the bed. She was like a ragdoll, but one that was totally down for playing any game he wanted. "You're soaked. I can see it."

She looked over her shoulder at him, sex in her eyes. "It's for you, Noah. Always."

He groaned at her words, the sweet voice somehow possessing an edgier tone than normal, which drove him crazy. Less talk, more action. Within seconds he'd removed his clothes and was yanking her to the edge of the bed by her hips. He'd always been a legs man, but with Rachel's ass on such fine display, it was impossible not to appreciate the whole package (which she had). "You want it like this baby?" She moaned in reply. "Tell me why."

Rachel's head fell to the bed, shaking a little - just like her legs, like she was desperate to get on with it. "Deep," she choked out a millisecond before Puck entered her. "F-fuck," she stuttered, causing him to _really_ go crazy. "You're so big ... _so_ deep this way."

Legit, the sex between them had already been off the charts, but he was about to embarrass himself. Rachel's mouth was capable of provoking a lot of different emotions in him - do the words _no gag reflex_ mean anything to you? - but to hear the downrightfilth coming from those perfect pouty lips was too much. Even later when she'd go back to talking about the environment and other shit he didn't really care about, Puck knew he'd always be thinking about this moment and remember it was worth it.

"Come, Rach," he demanded through gritted teeth, using her hips as leverage while he pounded into her just in case she wasn't as close as he was. His thrusts were fervent, the same as the loud, piercing call of his name from her lips when she came undone. He followed directly behind her, losing vision slightly before collapsing to her back and then forcing them both to their sides while he rode out his euphoria.

"Wow."

He chuckled slightly at her breathless astonishment, his head craning backward followed by his one arm as he reached for the discarded container of food. He dumped a few bites into his mouth, chewing slowly while his breath regulated. He'd offered the small box to her, but she just scrunched her nose in disgust before slowly picking herself up off the bed.

"Ya better eat somethin'. You're gonna need your strength."

"Noah," she chastised lightly, wobbling a little as she started toward the restroom - fucked her so she couldn't walk straight. Score.

"I don't know how many of those little outfits ya got in there, but I'mma rip 'em all off ya, babe."

Rachel blushed at that comment, and he kinda dug that he could still provoke such a reaction - especially after what they'd just done, not to mention the countless other less-than-innocent moments they've had since being together (and maybe even some from beforehand). It was nice, too, that she could still look at him with nothing but love in her eyes even after such a lust-fueled encounter; there was no love hidden behind anything that just transpired, as evident by the darkening marks appearing on her hips.

He almost felt bad about that. But, then he remembered they were just bruises. They'd fade eventually, even if memories of that night never would.


	4. Month 4

**Author's Note: **Short and sweet. Enjoy!

* * *

_Month 4_

If there was ever any doubt Rachel wasn't ready for the complex emotions that were required on stage, it would all be lost after tonight's performance. She'd been the perfect hostess, mingling between the several different sets of visitors with nothing but a smile perched on her lips and usually with a serving platter of _something_ in her hand. She'd made introductions, kept conversation flowing, laughed at stupid jokes and even lent someone a shirt after a terrible mishap with a ketchup bottle. And she'd done it all while sweat ran down her back, the smell of burning animal flesh clung inside her nostrils _and_ the gnawing feeling in her stomach moved further and further up until it was choking her heart.

She sighed, sinking deeper into herself while she took reprieve in a hidden corner of the roof. They'd decided last month to have a small Fourth of July party, which thanks to Kurt turned into an event - like everything else he was involved in. There were some classmates from NYADA and _guests_ from Santana's workplace. Blaine had flown in and Noah invited Jake (who brought Marley), too. Quinn had also shown up by surprise, which was admittedly why Rachel currently needed at least a few minutes to herself.

"There's my girl." Noah approached her, holding out something resting inside a napkin. "Made ya a s'more with some fuckin' gross vegan marshmallows I got."

Rachel accepted the treat with a soft smile, feeling the vice grip on her heart loosen a little before it clamped back down. Quinn was in her line of vision, the blonde making perfectly nice with anyone she talked to even though everyone she actually knew was at least ten feet away. Rachel sighed again, turning back so her elbows rested heavily on the brick ledge of the building. She picked at the dessert as she considered saying the words that had been tumbling through her mind all night.

"S'nice here." Noah rested his hip against the ledge, his body angled toward her but his gaze set toward the skyline. "Might need to take a leak in that corner, though. Our bathroom has been full for like, five fuckin' hours."

Rachel laughed lightly, though she could hear how fake it sounded when they weren't surrounded by the buzz of other people's conversations. Noah would know immediately that something was wrong; then again, considering he was standing there with her instead of visiting more with his brother or Quinn, Rachel suspected he'd already caught on to her mood - perhaps she wasn't that good of an actress. "It's good practice, you know. We're going to be stepping on one another as soon as Blaine moves in next month. It will be like an episode of _The Real World_."

"I know." Noah moved so his back was resting against the exposed brick, his gaze somehow even more firmly on her. "I've heard you make that joke at least twice now."

Rachel frowned, gently placing the s'more down despite the fact that she continued to study it as she again tried to find the right words. "Quinn looks good."

"Uh," Noah blinked, his eyes moving away to find the blonde for a few seconds until they moved back to Rachel. "I guess. Sure."

"Noah." She rolled her eyes, resting her hip against the short wall. "This isn't some kind of trap. She looks good." Her eyes left his and landed on the blonde. "She seems to be doing well. She's happy and single and …"

"You're pissed Quinn is here?"

"No, of course not." Rachel huffed, turning back to face forward, her fingers playing with the hem of the napkin again. "We're friends now."

"The way Finn and I are friends, right?"

Her smile was somewhat lopsided, but it was covered up by her sideways glance. It wasn't particularly funny, but it was almost endearing that they both could read these signs between them. "Do you remember junior year, when Finn and Quinn got sick?" She waited for him to nod before continuing. "Finn had told me that he saw fireworks when he kissed Quinn," she rushed out, following just as quickly with, "Is that what you felt?"

She closed her eyes as soon as the question was out, embarrassed she'd even voiced it and unnaturally terrified of what his response might be. She was secure in their relationship and Noah had never been shy about telling her exactly what he liked about her - in fact, even in high school he'd been one of the few members of the Glee club to stick up for her. Ever. But much in the way Finn was a hot button for him, Quinn was one for her. In Rachel's eyes, the blonde was everything she'd never be, some for the good and some for the bad.

"Fireworks burn out, ya know?" He shrugged pathetically, as if even he knew that wouldn't be enough of an answer. Sighing heavily, he looked at her and said, "I ain't gonna lie. She's a good kisser." He spoke over her face falling, even just a little. "You don't become cheer captain without it. But, she's also got an agenda." His eyes drifted over the party guests, landing once again on the blonde. "It's almost formulaic. Like a chess master or some shit. She's got every move planned out and that gets old quick, no matter how hot ya are."

Rachel nodded her head softly, willing to accept that answer before he added to it.

"You mix it up. You can be like the embers, slowing heating up, or like a damn explosion. And every hot level in between." He shrugged, but his smirk was not as lackadaisical. "I dig it."

She blushed heavily, leaning her head against his when he rotated into her space. His one hand rested on the ledge by her opposite hip, his chin perched on her shoulder while his other hand wove around her frame. He dropped a soft kiss to the back of her neck near her ear, and the exhale of his breath running along her skin managed to cool her overheated body - hot from the humidity that was still lingering from the day despite the setting sun and scorching from the look he'd given her moments before.

"Thank you," she finally said, her hand sliding across the arm he'd secured around her while each of them focused on the skyline once more, the random sparks of fireworks appearing like a punctuation mark to Noah's reassurance. "For the s'more."

His low chuckle vibrated through her, causing her own light giggle as she relaxed into him even more. From then on, she wouldn't have to pretend to like the Fourth of July.


	5. Month 5

**Author's Note:** Another short one, but not so sweet (not angsty, either; just full of roommate drama/hilarity). Read and review (and thanks to all doing so!

* * *

The sound of the shower running at five in the morning was only drowned out by the grating buzz of the blender pureeing something, which was still quieter than the music blaring from Santana's room. Everyone was out of sight from the center of the apartment, but the tension could be felt throughout the entire loft. It was like a large pressure cooker, whistling for attention until, finally, it bursted all at once and each occupant wound up in the same area.

"Turn down your fuckin' music, Satan!"

"I'm just tryin' to drown out your girlfriend's idiotic attempt at making breakfast."

"It's not just breakfast. I'm making lunch as well as two snacks. Unlike you, Santana, I have classes all day. I need to prepare my meals in advance so I don't waste even a single …"

Santana snored loudly before shouting, "I gotta do somethin' to drown out the sound of flesh flappin' together if I'm gonna get any sleep in this prison!"

"If you don't like it, then you can move out!" Kurt announced.

"I pay just as much rent as you do, Fairy Dust!"

"And yet you're the only one who doesn't help with any of the chores or ..."

"You were off pitch, Blaine," Rachel interrupted. "Show the shower some respect."

"Maybe he'd be able to hit the high notes if Puckerman's dick was in him, too."

"And here come the homophobic slurs."

"Can it, Hummel," Puck grumbled. "I'm already late for work and I still need to shower."

"I'm next in the shower!" Santana argued.

"You don't have class until the afternoon," Rachel reasoned. "Noah will only take a few moments and then he'll be gone all day."

"So he should shower _at night_," Kurt defended. "I need in the bathroom, too, or else we're both going to be late ..."

"Going to NYADA. We know," Santana droned. "Just because I'm not going to your snooty school doesn't mean it's not as important."

"She's right," Blaine insisted, mostly because they were attending the same college.

"Oh, fuck you." Puck muscled into the bathroom, pushing Blaine completely out and shutting the door.

"Noah, I need to brush my teeth!" Rachel knocked politely on the door, but it didn't open. Instead, a toothbrush skimmed across the floor from below the door. "Noah!"

"That's my toothbrush!" Kurt shrieked in horror.

Only a minute later, with the only thing covering his body being the beads of water that had yet fallen to the floor, Puck stepped out of the bathroom door and effectively quieted the entire room. Kurt was no longer pouting, Rachel had stopped knocking on the door in a panic and Santana and Blaine had stopped bickering (mid-bicker, with their mouths open). It was silent for the first time in what felt like forever. Or at least since school started back up again.

"I'm sick of this bullshit." Puck stated, pointing to Rachel. "Babe, I know you're busy, but you like charts and shit. Make a schedule. Showers, food, cleaning … whatever." His index finger moved to Santana. "If ya don't follow it, I'm returning your damn bed."

"How very mature, Noah. And completely reasonable given how many people live here and …"

"Add courtesy hours, too," he interrupted. "Ya can't be makin' fuckin' smoothies at five in the morning."

"Are you always this bossy when you're naked?" Blaine asked.

"Yes."

The entire group broke out into laughter as soon as Puck, Rachel, Santana and Kurt answered Blaine's question at the same time. And just like that the tension was broken and the roommates were friends again. At least between the hours of 8 a.m. and 11 p.m.


	6. Month 6

**Author's Note:** Apparently I'm not great at multitasking. I'm working on two other pieces besides this little ditty, and I forgot that it had been a while since I updated it. You guys need to leave more feedback. ;)

* * *

_Month 6_

Puck hissed in pain, bringing his thumb to his lips to suck gently before removing the digit to shake away the ache. There was a clear burn mark, causing him to throw the lighter across the room in frustration. It skidded across the room's hardwood floors, past the curtain barrier and only stopped after hitting the nearest wall in its path. The distance would have made him feel better if Blaine's bemusement hadn't echoed in his ears.

"Fuck off," he growled loudly, not leaving the confines of the bedroom. Rachel would be home any minute and he'd only just finished lighting all the candles he'd placed around the room. It took him about an hour in some shitty craft store that smelled like apples-and-cinnamon ass to find the right ones. Apparently re-using old Hanukkah candles wasn't good enough. At least that's what Kurt had said. But, fuck him, too, because he was the whole reason Puck was in this mess.

It wasn't that he didn't know it was their anniversary. Puck had sat on the sidelines for a long time, so the day he actually managed to get Rachel Berry to call him hers was pretty much etched in his mind. But he wasn't big on grand romantic gestures (despite how the anniversary came to be). He was just going to take her to dinner or whatever, but Kurt gave him so much shit about how the six-month anniversary was super special. Then again, maybe he was just hoping Blaine would overhear him since theirs was coming up in a couple months.

"Incoming," Blaine warned loudly before the sounds of him greeting Kurt and Rachel could be heard. Panicked, Puck surveyed the room, noting one of the candles had burnt out and another was leaking wax down the bedside table. The flowers he'd picked up on the corner were already starting to wilt, and he suddenly thought he should have put on something a little better than his worn AC/DC shirt. Cursing softly, Puck switched the music from Aerosmith to some shit R&B Kurt had bumped to his phone and waited, flowers in hand, for Rachel to walk into the room.

"Have fun, you two," Rachel wished as she waved goodbye to Kurt and Blaine while simultaneously pulling open the curtain to her and Noah's room. The spark of a candle caught her eye first, her head slowly turning and widening when she was directly facing Noah.

"H-happy anniversary," Puck stated in an exaggerated tone as he presented the bouquet of roses out toward her. He held them up for a good minute, just watching her blink and purse her lips before the anxiety got to him. "It's today."

Rachel's face gave in to light amusement, a soft giggle filtering into the air. "I know that." She took a few steps forward, sweeping the flowers into her chest with one hand while the other curled around his neck. She placed a chaste kiss on his lips, then lowered her head to smell the fragrant buds. "They're beautiful."

Puck just nodded. He knew she liked lilies, but the guy didn't have any and by that time he'd wasted too much time to be picky. "They're dyin'. I got a vase ready." He pointed to the glass decoration sitting on top of the dresser, filled halfway with water and a slice of lemon. Apparently it helped keep flowers fresh. Fuckin' Kurt.

"Noah," she began softly, arranging the roses just so before turning back to face him. Her eyes were soft and he could tell she was trying to figure out the best words to call him an idiot - it was a face he'd seen more than once. "This is all quite lovely."

"But?" He grunted, feeling the frustration and anger start to return.

"_But_," she emphasized lightly, as if to remind him she wasn't attacking him, "I can't help but be a little shocked." She moved again to stand in front of him, lowering his defenses a little with another light kiss. "I expected maybe an evening out and a small gift. I …"

"Shit."

Rachel's mouth snapped shut, concern in her eyes. "What?"

"I forgot the fuckin' present." Puck groaned, his fist tightening at his side.

"I don't need a present," she amended quickly, adding, "I don't need any of this."

His eyes opened from their clenched positions, focusing on her and the honesty staring back at him. In an instant, their entire relationship flashed before his eyes and he recalled how low-maintenance she'd managed to be. For him, anyway. She was still bat-sht crazy when it came to everything else in her life, but when it came to them, she was pretty easy going. Way more chill than any of the other chicks he'd ever tried to make into a real thing, though that was likely in direct correlation to how much they had sucked in general compared to her.

"Kurt said I had to do it up big."

She nodded in simple understanding, kissing him through his shirt before resting her head against his chest as she wrapped her other arm around his waist to fully hug him. "Despite our history with attempting to reach a particular benchmark, I care very little about the numbers when it comes to our relationship."

"So you're sayin' I should stop tallying how many times we do it, then?" He joked lightly, breathing a sigh of relief as his own arms wrapped around her frame. He wasn't sure how he got so lucky, but he wasn't just going to sit on his metaphorical pile of cash winnings. It was time to be a little reckless with his spending (ie: her). "Ya know, we haven't talked about the deal since that night."

Rachel hummed in reply, the end hitching slightly when her knees skimmed the fabric of the mattress milliseconds before she fell to the plush surface. Her eyes watched him carefully as he went around the room, changing the music from Kurt's playlist to one of theirs that played their favorite jazz tunes and then blowing out the candles he'd lit before her arrival until there was just one left burning on his bedside table. She squirmed under his predatory scrutiny, biting her lip after he smirked in satisfaction.

"S'about time we debated possible locations for your branding," he suggested, squatting down to remove her heels before his hands slowly crept up her calf. He massaged her thigh up almost to the point of no return before stopping and treating the other leg to the same loving attention. She was already breathing heavily and he could feel the wicked mix of goosebumps and flushed skin; he might suck at flowers and candles and shit, but _this_ he could do. "You got really cute feet."

She whimpered at his touch, one leg bending so the foot rested against the mattress. He could totally see up her skirt, but she apparently didn't care; she needed the leverage to lift her head, her eyes hooded but unable to look away from the methodical path his tongue was making to key tattoo areas. His attention to the dip of her ankle made her shiver, her hand reaching down to glide over his temple and across the back of his head.

"Maybe here," he diverted, removing his mouth from her lower calf to peck at the wrist she'd just made available to him. The idea of her tattoo being somewhere that was so closely linked to her heart - given the strong pulse he could feel under his lips - was kind of hot. It was also in a visible area, which she'd consider barbaric given his reasoning but he couldn't help but to want everyone to know she was his. "Or here."

Even though his lips had moved away from her lower half, his hands had continued the slow trek up her frame. Just then, he'd reached the wildly sensitive underside of her knee. "Probably wouldn't be able to stand a needle, huh?"

Rachel tried to giggle in what he imagined was agreement, but it just came out as a breathy sigh as his hands traveled even further up. He purposefully swept each digit across her inner thighs, watching her eyes close as she tipped her head back. It'd be hot to see her tattoo every time he visited the Promise Land, but that meant some asshole artist would see her goods and fuck that noise; that shit wasn't kosher.

Hooking his hands under her ass, Puck pulled her closer to the edge of the bed, forcing her skirt to scoot up to her waist. "Hip ink is kinda hot."

"W-what about here?" She asked breathlessly, lifting her shirt over her head and pointing directly over her left tit.

"Nah, too cheap." He pressed an open-mouthed kiss above her bellybutton, his fingers curling around the band of her underwear to pull the garment away. "No tramp stamp either."

His fingers ghosted over her ribs, caressing the skin under the veil of searching for the perfect location for the tattoo. A tattoo that would only make it onto her skin if they managed to survive another six months of their relationship. It seemed like a pipe dream then, but now he couldn't want anything more. Except maybe …

"Noah!" She gasped in surprise, her hands clutching at his back at the shock of him filling her so abruptly. He hadn't planned it, but when he'd realized his zipper was the only thing keeping them apart, he'd made a quick decision to fix that.

"I love the sound of my name comin' from your lips," he admitted lowly, bending closer to her ear. "Your voice _does_ shit to me, baby."

She hummed in reply, her grip loosening - only to release the fabric so her hands could meander under the T-shirt and eventually pull it off. "I love your voice, too."

"Should put the tat here," he suggested while kissing the sensitive patch of skin behind her ear, his hips never losing their rhythm. His tongue ran over the outer shell, whispering, "Then it'll be like I'm always right here. Makin' you shiver."

On cue, Rachel started to shake underneath him, her breath ragged and eyes lost somewhere in the back of her skull. "Yes," she breathed, repeating it a few more times like a chant before agreeing, "I like that."

"Just that?" He teased, though he was seconds from losing all cognitive function himself the way she was meeting his thrusts. Her innocent smile _while_ orgasming followed by an all-too-sexy (and legit learned from him) wink had him careening off the edge not long after.

"Happy anniversary," Rachel proclaimed, mostly in jest considering her amusement was only barely visible past the sex-dazed expression and nearly inaudible as she nestled against his side.

"Halfway there," he mentioned in an equally sedated sigh, his arm wrapping around her frame from the back and his finger gently toying with the area they'd silently agreed upon. The candle had burnt out sometime during their encounter, leaving the room almost completely dark. Still, he could feel her smile against his skin and responded in kind when she said:

"Yes, but who's counting?"


	7. Month 7

**Author's Note:** Let the good times roll. :)

* * *

_Month 7_

Rachel reached for a shot glass even before the bartender had completely arrived to the table. It was her 19th birthday (or it had been a few days ago) and the group took a train into Canada to celebrate; she was the last of them to reach the legal (foreign) drinking age, as even Blaine's had come and gone earlier the previous month. And it wasn't like any of them had kept a vow of sobriety during high school, but it was still a rush to pay for the drinks outright instead of handing the cash to some desperate older gentleman who didn't mind buying alcohol for minors.

"I love shot glasses," Rachel remarked happily after pounding down another drink. "They're so tiny. It's like we're having a tea party!"

Puck chuckled at her side, forcing her hands down to the table when she tried to lift another glass to her lips. "This shit ain't imaginary, babe. Ease up."

"Since when do you limit alcohol intake of those you're bangin', Puckerman?" Santana questioned, trying to push his hand away from Rachel's drink. "Let the girl have some fun."

"I'm not sleeping with you," Rachel reminded the Latina, her eyes unfocused despite the firmness found in her voice.

"What happens in costume …" Blaine joked lightly, returning to the table and sitting next to Kurt. The latter was dressed in a perfectly fitted sailor costume, apparently just for the cute hat. Blaine had wanted to go as something a little less stereotypical for a gay couple, but gave in to his partner's wishes eventually. Puck had been calling them semen all night.

"You aren't the one who's gonna be carryin' her around after she's toast," Puck reasoned, pushing the drink away from Rachel once again. "You can barely walk in those things to begin with."

"You told me to wear them," she pouted, resting her head on his arm and nearly falling off her high-top chair in the process.

He shrugged. "They're hot."

"And they make you tall enough to be able to ride all the rides," Santana sneered, tipping back another shot. "Puckerman included."

"Weren't you going to look for the John or Jane Smith to your Pocohontas?" Kurt asked tightly while gesturing to her sexified Disney costume. It hardly seemed possible, but Santana only got more intolerable when she drank. "The bartender has been trying to get you to look at him since we arrived."

"He's probably just wondering why we converted our money into Canadian," Blaine guessed.

The group laughed together, everyone still a little embarrassed that they'd been so excited about the tiny celebration that they'd converted their money without knowing the exchange was all but equal. It was no less embarrassing than walking around town in costume, though. Even if it was Halloween weekend and they weren't alone, it felt stupid to be dressed up in a public venue - walking around like they were trick-or-treating as adults. It had been Rachel's stipulation for going, though, as she'd refused to participate in any _debauchery_ if there were a threat that any pictures could surface later and ruin her career. Wearing a slutty nurse costume (not her choice) that paired nicely with Puck's doctor one (not his choice, either, but apparently he had to match and since he'd picked hers …), she could deny the validity of any such evidence.

"I'm not drunk enough to go on the prowl yet." Santana pushed the hair of her wig back behind her shoulder. "Besides. We're here to celebrate Berry's birthday." The Latina distributed shots in front of everyone, lifting hers in the air and demanding they toast. "To doing something crazy tonight!"

"I'm _not_ sleeping with you," Rachel repeated, licking her lips free of the few drops that hadn't made it into her mouth.

"He looks pretty crazy," Kurt replied, pointing to a passerby who had a tattoo covering his entire neck and part of his jaw. "Should we be like him?"

"Yes!"

"I've always thought about getting a tattoo!" Blaine agreed at the same time as Santana. "You'd look hot with one, too, babe."

"I was jok … Really?"

Rachel shook her head, her face crestfallen as she tried and failed twice before resting her hand on Kurt's shoulder. "No. No, I can't get a tattoo."

"Yes. _Yes_, you can," Santana argued.

"No!" Rachel insisted, leaning in across the table as if she were going to tell a secret - though the volume of her voice would have negated that. "I _can't_. I promised Noah." She turned her head, looking at her boyfriend dreamily, albeit hazily. "I'm going to brand myself his."

"What is she babbling about?" Kurt questioned, putting words to Santana's exasperated look.

"S'just a stupid bet." Puck recoiled as soon as her whine penetrated his eardrums. She was a needy drunk, but he liked that she needed him. "She's going to get a tattoo if we make it a year."

"Because of his scar." Rachel's bottom lip curled out, her thumb sweeping across the battle wound still visible (mostly just to her) on his face. "Because I love him."

"We know," Blaine said, swooning a little at the prospect of such an eternal and external dedication.

"If you guys are so much in love, skip the ink and get married."

Kurt rolled his eyes, pointing out, "This is Canada, not Vegas."

"And yet," Santana gestured out the window, where the entire group could see a neon-lit sign for a cheap (and fast!) wedding chapel. "A year is a fuckin' lifetime. Might as well just put your name on a piece of paper instead of on her piece of ass."

The table went back and forth with reasons why Santana's plan was stupid versus why it made sense. It almost became a drinking game, the two sides battling for the win. By the end of the night, everyone was thoroughly drunk and no side had claimed victory. At least not when it came to Rachel and Puck's nuptials. There was a marriage certificate in their hotel room when they woke up, it just had a different set of names on it.

When they got back to the city, Santana, Puck and Rachel all chipped in to get Kurt and Blaine a room on a weekend cruise. It was a honeymoon fit for two semen.


	8. Month 8

_**Author's Note:** _Basically pure fluff. Who couldn't use some of that? Enjoy!

* * *

_Month 8_

Their steps were slow and meandering, the pair walking around Central Park despite the below freezing temperature. Puck knew Rachel was cold; if not by the way both her arms were wrapped around one of his, then the visible puffs of air and the tinge of red on her nose and cheeks made it obvious. But it was the city's first snowfall and even though they grew up in Ohio and knew they'd be sick of the wintery weather by the end of the week, she'd insisted they continue walking. He doesn't mind telling her no, but he'd realized he rarely does, and he certainly wasn't going to when she looked so fuckin' adorable wearing one of those French hat things and a bright-ass coat and a smile so wide and as white as the small flakes clinging to her hair.

"Well?" He asked, breaking the silence that had overtaken them during their walk. It was a rarity when Rachel wasn't talking, but considering he was seeking her advice, he wanted to be sure she wasn't just enjoying the scenery or some shit.

"They both sound like terrific opportunities, Noah," she said, one gloved-hand reaching up to brush away a snowflake that had stuck to her cheek before settling back down deep inside her coat pocket.

"Yeah, but which should I do?"

She laughed a little, shaking her head (as best she could considering half of it was pressed into his arm, likely trying to draw some warmth from his coat). "That's not my decision."

"I know that," he replied almost defensively, as if he wanted it to be clear he didn't take orders from some broad. But, then he sighed, knowing that's exactly what he wanted - and what he was used to. Of the women that had stuck around in his life longer than a night (or afternoon, he was never really picky on the time), they all seemed to be strong, opinionated … and generally a pain in his ass. Those adjectives could certainly describe Berry to a T, but she was probably the first chick he'd known that was all the things without a shred of expectation on his behalf. "You could like, help, though."

"Well," she began, her voice already carrying so much enthusiasm, "the promotion would lead to more money. You'd be doing something you love, interacting with people and playing music. But, it's also a risky avenue. The music business is uncompromising and unapologetic and you have to work every day just to _maybe_ get a little closer to your dream."

"So you're sayin' I should do the internship."

"No, not at all." She sounded exasperated, which only made him even more frustrated. "While the internship does sound equally exciting, from a challenging perspective - not to mention the rush you must feel with the knowledge that you're doing something that is so admirable and selfless - if your passion lies in music, then you should pursue it no matter how hard it might be or how long it might take to reach any form of success."

"For fuck's sake," Puck growled, Rachel swinging into him after he'd stopped walking. "You're not helping."

Rachel smiled, untangling her arm from him and stepping back a little. "I love you, Noah." She lifted to her toes, her freezing nose skimming across his cheek on her descent back to flat ground after her chaste kiss. "It is your life, and I'll support you regardless of which you choose."

He scoffed for no other reason than it went well with the way he started to walk ahead of her, away from her. He knew she would follow, and if she didn't he'd just circle back and get her because … well, she wasn't lying. Again, she shared many of the same traits that annoyed the shit out of him on any other chick, but she had always managed to be completely different from those kinds of women, too. Even before they got together, she'd always had some ridiculous faith in him; faith to do the right thing, faith that he was more than he or anyone else believed.

It was partly why he'd wanted her opinion so badly. Puck was torn between the two options, and he figured the right choice was probably staring him in the face and he was too dumb to see it. Rachel, on the other hand, would easily detect it (for him, too, not just from her own perspective, but pick the one that was best for him) and let him know. Instead, she only reiterated everything he'd already tossed back and forth inside his own head, leaving him to still make this huge decision all on his own. Well, it wasn't _that_ huge, but it definitely seemed like a crossroads. Like he was choosing a path and it would lead to something and he'd have to either stick with it or regret it forever.

It was kind of like the whole thing with Rachel. Before he'd been all about the short term. Scamming on chicks, making it to the next pay check and just living life one day at a time. Now he was in New York and it seemed like everything was building up to something. The thing with Rachel wasn't a fling. They were working toward a goal (one year, though it was starting to seem like that was just the beginning) and they were doing it together. He was in school, and it wasn't because he had to be. He was in school because he enjoyed it and it made him feel like he was being that better person that he wanted to be - that Rachel _saw_.

The promotion would be easy, but he was in it for the long haul.

"I think I'mma do the internship," he stated hesitantly, turning around to face her (she was about three feet behind him and about six feet to the side, skimming along the edge of the walkway looking at the snow-covered trees and stuff. Point was, he knew she'd follow him). He swallowed thickly as she neared, her face as still as stone.

"Noah," she started softly, her face finally breaking into a wide smile even though her voice stayed low and intimate. "I'm very proud of you."

She kissed him tenderly, lingering a little before breaking and returning back to her position of nestled at his side as they began the trek back home. He knew he looked like an idiot to anymore they passed, but Puck couldn't keep the grin off his face. This amazing woman who was set to conquer this amazing city was with him (and proud to be). She was _proud_ of him.

It was just like the screenplay he'd wrote.


	9. Month 9

**Author's Note: **How about an extra boost this morning to make sure everyone's Monday at least STARTS off well? :)

Thanks to everyone who is still reading and reviewing!

* * *

_Month 9_

Rachel accepted the kiss on the cheek with a warm smile, nodding her agreement that they'd talk soon before moving toward the kitchen - her original destination before getting stopped by Noah's mother. It was a pipe dream to begin with to consider she'd be able to make it from the front of the house to the back without being stopped at least once. After all, the majority of those in attendance were there to see her, and she wasn't being conceited. Her fathers had allowed her to invite anyone she'd wanted to their annual Hanukkah party since she only came home so often and inviting them to the house was better than Rachel splitting her time away from home to meet with them.

Setting the tray on top of the island counter, she used a discarded towel to wipe her hands before sweeping around the centerpiece to put it back in its rightful spot. From her vantage point, she could see out into the side of the living room with the couch and entertainment center. A lot of the people were occupying the dining room, if only because that was where most of the food was set out for people to nosh on at will. But among those in her line of vision were Noah, Jake and Marley.

She'd spent a bit of time with the two teenagers when they'd traveled up for July 4th and had only spoken another few sentences to them this evening. Her guilt about that only further perpetuated the thought she'd had while speaking to Ms. Puckerman; the Puckermans were always invited to the party because of their ties to the Jewish faith, and Rachel had never been impolite to either Noah's mother or sister. However, there was something about the fact that she and Noah were dating now that made her feel more _aware_ of their presence.

She wasn't necessarily trying harder to impress them, but it was obvious their relationships had shifted. She was no longer the nice, Jewish neighbor. She was the nice, Jewish girl who was holding Noah captive in New York; and they were potentially _in laws_. Everything seemed much more significant, even when it was just between their mutual friends. As if the perception others had of each of them was flipped by her and Noah's union (though everyone seemed to agree that their relationship made sense in that regard; how they could both be a good (and bad) influence on one another).

Still, it was very strange how coming home, a place that was as old to them as they were, could seem so new now that they were together.

"Hey, Rach."

Rachel shook herself from her fog, spinning around to see Finn standing sheepishly by the back door. The snow had really started to come down and her father had put a sign up asking the guests to come in through the back where they could dry their shoes without ruining the carpet (or stepping in melted snow). Finn was still tugging off one boot when he greeted her, a petite blonde nervously removing her coat behind him and then smiling gratefully when he stood upright and took it from her grasp.

"Happy Chanukah."

"The C is silent."

"I know." He smiled wide, forcing her to respond in kind. "I just like to mess with you."

She laughed out loud, nodding her head a little in surrender. He'd gotten her, but two could play at that game. "Well, I wish I were joking, too, but I'm afraid you arrived just a little too late; we're all out of food." She waited, straight-faced, for about twenty seconds to let _all_ the color drain from his face before laughing, "I'm kidding."

The blonde giggled behind him even as Finn closed in on Rachel and lifted her into a rather strong hug. Rachel couldn't help but laugh, even when Noah appeared in the kitchen and she saw him cock and eyebrow toward her. He was grinning, though, too, which meant he was _also_ messing with her. Maybe she was an easy target.

"Alright, Hudson. Keep your hands off mine and I won't touch yours." Noah jutted his chin toward the girl who'd moved to stand beside Finn.

"I'm torn between chastising you for implying women are merely possessions or for the single-minded way you expressed your possessiveness."

"Why don'tcha just swoon and we'll call it square?" He suggested with a smirk, tossing his arm over her shoulder before again looking at Finn expectantly.

"Rachel, Puck, this is Katie," Finn presented while lacing his fingers with the girl. "She's my girlfriend."

"No shit." Noah rolled his eyes. "The question is why."

Katie visibly tensed, her knuckles almost white on the hand that was holding Finn's. This might have been her first time meeting everyone, but it clearly wasn't the first time she'd heard their names. She looked up at him earnestly while the two men just stared at one another, only breaking when both of them started to smile at the same time before Finn asked, "Why don't you ask Rachel?"

"You'll have to excuse them, Katie," Rachel interrupted their chorus of _ooooh_ and squirmed out of Noah's hold to step forward and shake the young girl's hand (it felt weird, but no weirder than Finn and Noah had just made the situation). "We're all from a small town and they still haven't discovered what true humor particularly sounds like."

Noah scoffed, leading all of them toward the food - Finn needed to see it with his own eyes, apparently - while reclaiming Rachel under his arm. "Why don'tcha run upstairs and put on that one holiday sweater with the giant bow on it? That always got a few laughs."

Rachel again tried to keep a straight face while everyone else around her (now including Jake, Marley, Artie, Tina, Mercedes and Mike) reacted, but cracked again as she, too, began to giggle. She wasn't exactly pleased to be the center of the emerging conversation dedicated to embarrassing moments, but she also couldn't be entirely upset about anything going on around her. Things could have gone very differently this evening, between Noah and Finn, between herself and Finn's new girlfriend, and any number of other factors. And despite how her younger self might have craved the drama (_Run Joey Run_ a great example), now she knew better than to ask for trouble.

Except, of course, when it came to making up a terribly hilarious lie about why Noah was currently sporting a glittery (albeit football related) temporary tattoo. Happy Chanukah, indeed.


	10. Month 10

**Author's Note: **I meant to post this sooner, but better late than never, right? Fair warning, definitely not as fluffy as the past few. But hopefully still worth a read (and a review, please!).

* * *

_Month 10_

Puck dug through the hamper of dirty laundry, trying to find his favorite hoodie when it hadn't been in either his dresser or hers. In his haste to grab a few livable items before, he hadn't taken into account the below-freezing temperatures; his wardrobe was still just mostly T-shirts. No big deal if his buddy didn't keep his place just as frigid as the snow-covered streets of New York, but he was sleeping for shit - and he wanted to believe it was because the shivering was keeping him awake and not the lack of his usual sleeping partner. Anytime he thought about her, he just got crazy pissed again, which was why he was currently trying to hurry up and get the hell out of dodge. Blaine had told him she wasn't at the apartment, but he hadn't texted how long she'd be gone.

It had been a week since he'd talked to or seen her, and he wasn't sure how he'd react. Thinking about her just made him feel all those same shitty emotions he'd felt after everything happened, and … well, he didn't want to. They made him uncomfortable, especially when the only way to describe them was with words like "fragile" and "vulnerable". If he was forced to feel things, then he wanted them to revolve more closely to "badass" or "epic" or "orgasmic". He hated the way he hadn't been able to eat much or sleep much or even _think_ much because all his energy was being spent on missing her - or trying not to.

"Noah?"

Fuck.

"Noah?" Rachel asked again, her voice drawing nearer as her steps quickened toward their bedroom. The curtain flew open, her face losing much of its tension the second she saw him. "I'm so glad you're here."

"I just needed to pick up some shit," he declared, his voice rough while he went back to searching for that shirt, averting his eyes from her and refusing to think about how good she looked.

"Can we please just talk about this?" Her voice was desperate, and he liked it. "I think you owe me _that_ much."

"I owe _you_?" He barked incredulously, all but dropping the bag he'd thrown a few more articles of clothing into. He was practically shaking he was so mad. "You kiss another dude and _I owe __**you**_?"

Rachel sighed heavily, staring at him with a mix of sorrow and exasperation. "Noah, I've been extremely patient with you all week, but this is completely unfair."

"Patient?" He snorted out, adding a short laugh for good measure. "If the definition of patient is blowin' up my phone every damn hour and being a snotty, snobby ... _elitist_ about admittin' you're wrong _and_ calling me a child. Then, sure. Patient."

Puck didn't care if he sounded like a baby (Now. He hadn't before. Bitch). His girlfriend had kissed another guy, and he had every right to be pissed. It didn't matter that it was for some stupid school concert thing. What mattered was the guy she'd kissed totally dug it and they still had about a thousand rehearsals left plus the dozen stage kisses and it all just made his skin crawl. Now that he was on this side of exclusivity, he sort of hated himself for the shit he did to chicks when he was younger. If they felt half as shitty as he did, then … fuck.

"Is this really how you want to spend your birthday?"

"It's my birthday, and I'll be an asshole if I want to," he all but sang before pushing up the curtain on the opposite side of the room and tried to make his escape.

"I have a present for you."

He didn't even turn around, just tossed over his shoulder, "Ya gonna let me watch you blow Seth or Sebastian or whatever his douchey name was?"

"Noah," she began, her voice sharp enough to stop him even though he didn't dare face her, "you are surrounded by beautiful women every day - some who pay for guitar lessons they most certainly do not need just to spend an hour alone with you at the music store - and never once have I questioned your fidelity."

Puck scoffed. She'd questioned it before; they've had a few fights that she'd claimed were about one thing but then sprung into her self-esteem issues without any damn warning. Like, maybe he'd be more willing to help with the dishes if she'd wear some slutty outfit he hadn't even noticed _some chick_ wearing (because when Rachel is in the room, she's _all_ he's looking at). Yeah. That shit happened.

Then he thought about how he was in a massage therapy class for school and the handful of happy ending jokes he'd made probably sucked for her. But those were just jokes. This thing with that guy was like, foreshadowing or something. Evidence that he was completely disposable, or at the very least replaceable. Like, she could probably hold auditions for the empty slot of boyfriend and have a fucking line around the block with dudes willing to take his place. Dudes who were probably a way better choice for her than him, which is what really had him so pissed; like he needed a reminder that she'd be fine without him.

"You have _nothing_ to be jealous abou …"

"Jealous?" He questioned immediately, his anger bubbling back to the surface as he whipped around to stare at her. "You think I'm jealous? Of some musical douche who's probably a fag anyway?" She winced at his words. "He don't got nothin' on me."

"I didn't mean to insinuate …"

"_He_," Puck growled, abandoning his plan to leave and smirking when she responded just how he knew she would, "can't make you shiver by just steppin' closer."

"R-right," Rachel stuttered, her breath shallow. "That's precisely my point."

"Your heart's racin'," he taunted after reaching out and grabbing her wrist. He held it so tightly he could feel her pulse against the pads of his fingers. He tugged her against him, his other hand sneaking around back to wrap around her long hair and yank it a little. She let out a surprised yelp, her free hand reaching up to rest on his bicep. "You're shaking."

He felt the rush of breath across his neck when he leaned into hers, letting his teeth trail over the sensitive skin. Her mouth apparently wasn't working and she'd tried to use her hands again but he just held her tighter, pulled her hair harder to expose as much of her neck as possible. Puck could make shapes out of his hickeys, but this time he just wanted to make a mark. Stake his claim.

"Noah."

Her voice quivered when she'd finally managed to speak, but he just ignored her. He did let go of her hair, but only to swipe his arm across the small table against the wall that housed a bowl for their keys and shit. The sound of the items skidding across the hardwood floors echoed around them as he forced her to sit on the table, pressing her back against the wall harshly while he moved in between her legs. She whimpered at the bruising kiss he planted on her lips, and he couldn't help the wicked grin from forming once he finally set her released her pouty mouth.

"You only do this for me." It was meant to be patronizing, but it sounded more like a command. "You're _mine_."

"Noah," she whined, though he wasn't sure if it was because of his words (and what she wanted to say) or because he'd literally ripped her panties off from underneath her skirt. Who wore a skirt (his favorite. Bitch) in the middle of January? "I'm all for expressing ourselves physically, but this isn't going to resolve the problem."

He caught her hands before they made contact with his chest, practically slamming them above her head against the wall. He held them there tightly, seething despite the pain he saw rip through her expression. He'd hurt her, but she was also completely turned on given her flushed cheeks and the heat he felt radiating from her core. He was going to fuck her into the wall.

"You're the problem," he bit back, closing in on her.

"Caroline."

He stopped instantly, intending to step away from her entirely but she caught the loose fabric of his shirt and kept him relatively close. Her touch was soft and warm and her expression was filled with nothing but love. He hated himself at that moment, unsure of how things even got to the point where she'd felt the need to use their safe word but regretting it with his whole being nonetheless. He rested his forehead against hers, taking comfort in the simple gesture.

"I'm sorry," he choked out, replacing his forehead with his lips as his hands reached up to cradle her jaw. "I'm an asshole. I'm sorry." His thumb skimmed across her cheek, catching a tear that had fallen. "Shit. I'm sorry. I love you. Shit."

She giggled, shaking her head slightly before kissing him softly. "I know. I'm sorry, too." She rolled her eyes at his shock. "I'm _sorry_ we wasted a week together over something so silly." She kissed him again, this time more firmly. "I love you, too, Noah. That never changed, and never will."

It hadn't been the best birthday - they did say it was all downhill after 20 - but there was at least hope the rest of the year would go well. Although that's not to say he wasn't going to try to make the most of it. "For my birthday wish, I say we go to our room and makeup for lost time."


	11. Month 11

**Author's Note: **So this one is just short and sweet. It's February in this world, but I didn't want to do the typical mushy Valentine's Day crap because 1) I hate it and 2) this is Puckleberry. Come on. :)

So, this is what happened. Enjoy (and then tell me about it!).

* * *

_Month 11_

The curtain blocking off Rachel and Noah's room waved in movement, catching Rachel's gaze in her periphery. Not a second later, Santana stalked into the room, making no comment about Rachel and Noah's current position - they were covered, but clearly wrapped up in one another. Santana never shied away from showing her disgust with their intimacy, usually covering her eyes in jest if she didn't have a particularly biting remark to share. This morning, though, she just stood there, worrying her bottom lip and wringing her hands in front of herself.

"I did a bad thing."

"I thought you were staying in Ohio for the week?" Rachel asked, mostly because she didn't want to jump to any conclusions. Santana saying something like that could be any number of things, ranging so greatly in severity that it was frightening. Instead, Rachel wanted to focus on why the Latina was back four days early from a trip that had seemed so important to her. She'd been missing Brittany and wanted to surprise the blonde for Valentine's Day. The holiday had only been over for less than 12 hours, though, so something _clearly_ had gone bad.

"In my defense, I was …" Santana stopped, sighing in defeat, "a little drunk."

"What happened?" Noah asked impatiently, refusing to move from his reclined position in the bed in clear hopes that he and Rachel could continue celebrating their love (her words, obviously) as they'd started last night.

"I slept with Finn," Santana blurted out.

Rachel's mouth fell open, snapping closed when the Latina visibly tensed. She peeked at Noah from the corner of her eye, but his shock had already worn off to wild amusement. "Wh-what about his girlfriend?"

"They broke up," she defended quickly, as if she wanted it on the record that she wasn't a slut. "Last month, I guess."

To say she was surprised was an understatement. Her and Finn's friendship had been tested many times in the past year, but they were working on it. They were growing up together, but apart, and after December Rachel really thought things were back to being as close to normal as they'd been before things had happened with Noah. Santana's confession, though, spoke volumes; why wouldn't he tell her about his break up?

"Do you like him?" She asked instead, knowing Santana wouldn't have an answer to the lingering question. Plus, based on the Latina's anxiety level, Rachel knew better than to focus on anything other than dealing with the problem at hand. Granted, she wasn't quite sure if the problem was that Santana felt like it was bad to sleep with Finn because of the Finchel history or because of the Finntana history.

"No!" Santana all but shouted, adding a slight laugh to the end. "He's _Finn_. He's like, such an idiot and knows shit about girls and like, so childlike that it is annoying, mostly because he's so damn tall and … just … solid that it doesn't fit and …"

"I thought you were into chicks?" Noah asked, maybe just to protect Rachel who was smiling so wide at Santana's rambling that the latter had actually growled in frustration.

"You might want to consider being less of an asshole when I'm guessin' that sheet is the only thing between me and rippin' your favorite body part off."

"My favorite body part ain't on _my _body, thankyouverymuch," he stated smugly.

"Oh, fuck!" Santana exclaimed, ignoring him to focus on the ringing phone in her clenched hands. "It's Finn."

"Just answer it," Rachel advised, her wide smile dwindling to a soft one in hopes of not scaring the poor girl. "It doesn't have to be a big deal. But," she turned to Noah, her voice softening as she finished, "you'll be surprised what can happen when you let your guard down and admit your feelings for someone you once thought was the completely opposite of yourself."

"Oh, barf!" Santana said as Noah and Rachel embraced. She stomped out of the room, flinging the still-ringing phone to the opposite side of the loft while heading toward her own room. She clearly wouldn't be able to hide from her feelings forever, but she could stay hidden in her room for as long as she felt like it.


	12. Month 12

**Author's Note: **Another short one, but perfect for a Monday (in my opinion). Next chapter is the end (::sniff::), so I'm officially taking suggestions from anyone still reading for future story ideas. Legit, the board is super quiet lately and I don't want to get out of the habit of writing for this fandom. So, please, some prompts - songs, movies, a picture, a quote, an idea. Anything, really.

Thanks. :)

* * *

_Month 12_

Puck was bent over the table, his bottle of beer shaking in one hand while his other held his stomach. He was laughing so hard it hurt, even more so at the current moment because he'd almost fell over when his chair had wobbled off the back two legs. He couldn't help it, though. They were sitting in the middle of a crowded bar that served them mostly because they didn't have time to card, a bowl of peanuts filled to capacity in front of them because it was trivia night and that was the lame reward the bartender threw at the team who shouted the right answer first. The funnier part, however, was that it was intermission before the last round and Rachel was participating in the worst display of smack talk he'd ever heard. Since the week before, anyway.

The thing was, Rachel was fucking dynamite at trivia. She knew practically everything about music and theater, loved to read and watch movies, was a sucker for reality television and mostly anything on one of those pop culture rags and could basically fill in the gaps on any other category because she was just generally smart. Puck could help with useless knowledge and sports and shit, but she basically dominated. And tonight wasn't even a challenge. Team Puckleberry (yes, they had to submit a name and _yes_ that was their choice, if just for a good laugh) was kicking names and taking ass, and one other regular wasn't particularly having any fun being annihilated - by a girl, no less. And Puck was going to stand up for his girl and beat the shit out of the guy for calling her a bitch, but that's when Rachel _really_ got fired up.

"Babe, _babe!_" Puck coughed, choking a little on his laughter. "You're killin' me. Chill."

"He started it, Noah!" Rachel shouted. For no reason, either, because the bartender had cut the music when they'd started the game and the front area was filled with people just waiting for the last round. "With the insinuation that the questions were too easy if _someone like me_ knew them." She scoffed then turned back around, her voice raising as she said, "Then maybe _someone like __**you**_ should answer them first." She turned back toward Puck, opened her mouth and then closed it before turning back around and yelling, "Omadhaun!"

Puck broke out in laughter again, shaking his head while grabbing the bridge of his nose to legit stop tears from coming out of his eyes. "What the fuck? Was that even a word?" He struggled to ask, still chuckling.

"Yes," she hissed, still glaring at the man who was sitting at the other side of the bar. "It's a big word for idiot." Then, like she hadn't just been in what was as close to a bar fight as she was ever going to get, she smiled so wide and so sweet that he laughed even before she said, "And he doesn't know _that_ either."

"I'mma get us some more drinks." His seat scratched across the hardwood floors of the bar as he stood, pushed back even further when he leaned down to kiss the top of her head. "Rest up for the last round, champ."

She managed to beam at him and throw the asshole in the back yet another look to kill, Puck shaking his head again as he gestured for a refill for their table. They were both just drinking beer (which he totally dug, by the way. Rachel didn't drink too much - mostly because she was a lightweight - but she wasn't a snob when she did. There were certain brands of beer she didn't like, but anyone who didn't think Budweiser tasted like cat piss wasn't anyone he wanted to drink with anyway) and it probably would have been cheaper to get a pitcher, but he knew she liked to pick at the label on the bottle. So he got bottles.

"Some girl you got there, Puckerman."

Puck smiled at the bartender but didn't respond. The guy said the same thing every week, which was how he knew Puck's name. Plus, he didn't need a reminder. Rachel was awesome, and tonight was just another example of why. He had almost a year's worth of other examples, and it had been the best year of his life. In fact, that was something that had been on his mind for awhile now. Tonight just sort of made it all come to one startling conclusion.

They made a really good team.


	13. Postlude

**Author's Note: **The end. Or at least that is what I'm leading everyone (including myself) to believe. I strolled down memory lane and read all of this universe yesterday and I still can't help but shake my head when I realize this started as a one-part "What If" idea. LOL. In that respect, thank you to everyone who encouraged and supported me/the stories. I love all the feedback and hope y'all have enjoyed the journey as much as I have.

Until next time ...

* * *

_Present Day_

Rachel gave her reflection one more once over before stepping away from the mirror and out of the bathroom. Noah had been in their bedroom when she'd left, but given the amount of time she'd spent getting ready she understood why his voice was currently coming from the center of the loft. Despite her somewhat high-maintenance attitude and the extra work she was putting into her look since high school, she'd never been one of those girls who spent a long time primping. Living with four other people sharing one bathroom also shaved her time to considerably less than before - she was actually second to last, before Noah.

Today, however, it was her brain and not her face or body that was slowing her up. No matter how often she tried to stop it, she couldn't help her mind from wandering. Her makeup had really only taken about five minutes, but the year-long introspection was a different (much longer) story. She knew it was just a tattoo and she wasn't scared in the least about the needle or anything of the sort; but, there was something about why she was getting one and the buildup to the moment that just felt more significant. It was as if, deep down, she knew that this wasn't just the beginning to another day. It felt like this moment would be the beginning of another life.

"That is not a living room," Santana argued, pointing behind her. "That is a square of space with a couch that doesn't even seat all of us, a coffee table we use for eating and a television from circa 1978."

"Exactly! We've turned this place into silos," Blaine pointed out. "If we had a bigger TV …"

"There's barely space to walk."

"Think about it, babe," Blaine pitched to Kurt. They were all so caught up in the discussion that they hadn't even noticed Rachel enter the room. "Fashion Week, in high definition."

"You'd practically be on the runway," Noah added, though Rachel knew if this (insane) plan actually came to fruition he'd probably refuse to allow anything but sports and video games to grace the larger screen.

"You want a bigger TV?" Santana smiled, but it was more evil than not. "Why don't you and the old ball n' chain get your own damn place?"

"Finn would be on our side, ya know." Noah smirked.

"Please," Kurt butted in before Santana could snap back. "If Finn was moving in, we'd need a bigger _refrigerator_."

"Don't try to change the subject. This isn't about Finn. We're not even dating. We're … whatever. I barely like him." She shrugged while everyone else just rolled their eyes. "I'm not Berry. I'm not going to …"

"Going to what?" Rachel asked, finally making her presence known. Her expectant expression grew worrisome, though, as all four pairs of eyes stayed glued to her - and not in a good way. "What?"

"_What_ are you wearing?"

She looked down at her outfit, cocking her head a little. It was a beautiful spring day, so she'd chosen a simple black tank top and a pair of designer jeans that were frayed and ripped fashionably. She'd added a few edgy accessories and a basic heel and kept her hair down but styled with big, sweeping curls. She thought she'd looked nice - with a rock and roll flair.

"I didn't want to dress like a slob, but I don't want to be taken advantage of based on my usual appearance," she confessed.

Blaine actually laughed. "Depending on where you're getting this tattoo, they might take advantage of you anyway."

"She's gettin' it on the ear," Noah all but growled, though she thought it was a little unfair since he'd toyed around with the idea of having it on her inner thigh for the longest time.

"Your ear?" Santana scoffed. "Of what?"

Rachel's eyes moved to Noah, to which he responded with another unpleasant noise before grumbling, "She won't say."

"That's not entirely accurate," she defended lightly. "I haven't decided yet."

Noah rolled his eyes. "Well, clock's tickin', babe." He jutted his chin out as a goodbye toward everyone while sliding his arm across her back. "Let's go."

"Have fun …"

"Makin' the worst decision of your life," Santana added to Kurt and Blaine's parting words.

"Fuck her," Noah stated as soon as he'd closed the apartment door. "Like she hasn't made worse."

Rachel smiled but didn't say anything. For one, she knew there was nothing to be frightened about regarding the tattoo, as the shop was close to Noah's job at the music store and he'd already been inside and checked it out. But, more importantly, she knew Santana was just acting out courtesy of the Finn teasing. The Latina still refused to admit their relationship was anything other than an extension of what they already had (friendship) even though they spoke on the phone all the time, his name came up in conversation much more frequently and she'd made a few trips to Ohio already in the past two months (allegedly just for the sex).

"Though she, uh, did kinda bring up a good point. Ya know, that maybe it's time for us to think about gettin' our own place."

Again, she simply nodded. It wasn't the first time any one of them had said the same thing to each other. But they all always made some tired excuse for why they stayed despite how crowded it was. The loft was close to school, the rent was beyond reasonable (especially split five ways), everything else in the city was a dump. The truth, however, was the great apartment had very little to do with why no one wanted to leave. Instead, it was the relationships they've cultivated in the small space; they've all become more like family than just a group of friends.

"I dunno. Be nice to have four walls as a bedroom." He shrugged nervously. "Or, ya know, be able to have hot shower sex without worrying about Hummel flippin' his lid."

Rachel didn't trust her voice, afraid he'd be able to hear the excitement she felt at just the idea of them living together, alone. Just like everyone else, she'd miss the family they've become, but her and Noah's alone time was basically nonexistent. And since her most favorite moments were those times when they were just lying in bed (or doing other things in bed), it seemed like the ideal solution for them to look for a place for themselves. She just never thought he'd want that; she'd never thought Noah Puckerman would be so willing to tie himself down. And to her.

Honestly, Rachel couldn't believe their relationship had evolved to what they have now. They were so different and it certainly didn't seem as serious as it became considering he'd just barged into her room and sang her a song. Before then, she hadn't even realized she'd been harboring feelings for him, and she'd spent all that time thinking about the past and all the missed signs and opportunities that the future hadn't really even been a consideration. Now, though, just a year later, she could barely remember a time when she didn't love him; she'd wondered if maybe that was because there wasn't one. Maybe she'd always loved Noah.

"But, uh, I mean, it is close to school and shit, so …"

"Did you really think we'd make it the year?" She asked abruptly, trying to put his mind at ease. She could hear the anxiety in his tone and she guessed it was because he thought she was against his idea to move out. There were few things that could make him behave so oddly, but anything revolving around the status of their relationship was always a pretty easy one.

"Legit?" She nodded, wanting a honest answer. "No."

Rachel laughed lightly, figuring as much.

"I'been thinkin' about it a lot, though. Just … all of it. Us. This year and …" He breathed out heavily, frustrated by something but she didn't know what. "It's been awesome. Like, really."

She blushed a little, nodding her head slightly in agreement before curling her arm around his. Noah was much less guarded around her than he used to be, but she appreciated the extra effort he put into trying to make sure she knew he was being sincere. Still, he'd said basically the same thing last month (and not just on St. Patrick's Day when he'd gotten overly drunk and said some rather sweet albeit confusing things). So she couldn't figure out what had him suddenly so unglued.

"Which, I don't know. Made me think maybe there was a, uh, better spot for your ink. Maybe."

Rachel blinked, not expecting the conversation to move in that direction. Why would he be nervous about the tattoo? He was just talking about moving in alone (wasn't he?), so it couldn't be that he didn't want her to go through with it. Suddenly it was she who was feeling anxious, words coming out of her mouth just to try to fix the situation. "I was rather fond of the ear idea, actually. I haven't fully decided yet - need to evaluate the artist's skill and capabilities and such - but I was thinking about getting it here," she used her hand to push aside some hair, bending the top of her ear back to point to the underside.

"I know we already discussed that I wasn't reckless enough to brand myself in the precise definition of the term, but I thought about getting the musical notes for your name. Because, let's be truthful, any tattoo I get is going to remind me of you. Whether it is just some silly Chinese symbol for peace or what have you, it's always going to make me think of you and this commitment and …"

"Can you just, like, not talk … for a second," he interrupted, stopping in the middle of the pathway.

Rachel had been so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed how beautiful it was. They were in the middle of the park, just a few blocks away from their destination. On both sides of them were lines of budding trees and above them was a clear blue sky with a few of those giant, fluffy white clouds. The air was crisp and light, a gentle breeze passing by them every now and again. It was a perfect day.

"I was thinkin' you should get the tattoo here." He grabbed her left hand that had fallen from his bicep, toying with the underside of her ring finger. He cleared his throat. "Wearin' a ring isn't really gonna be an option once ya get all famous and stuff. And I'm not sayin' this has to mean now or nothing, but s'gonna happen so I just thought …"

"Are you asking me to marry you?"

She didn't mean to sound so surprised, and she wished she could take it out of her tone of voice; Noah was already so unlike himself and her reaction hadn't helped. But she was actually quite confused. She _really_ hadn't anticipated the conversation going in this direction.

"We made it the year." He shrugged casually, though his words and the expression on his face was anything but. "How 'bout eternity?"

Now _that_ sounded like Noah, and Rachel didn't even have to think before giving him an answer. "Deal."


End file.
